


That Time In Paris

by Clockworkpulse



Series: That Time... [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alpha!Illya, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Flirting, Jealous Illya, Knotting, M/M, Napoleon is a Tease, Omega!Napoleon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockworkpulse/pseuds/Clockworkpulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon Solo is an Omega. Illya knows this, had caught the man’s scent back at that little chop shop in East Berlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time In Paris

Napoleon Solo is an Omega. Illya knows this, had caught the man’s scent back at that little chop shop in East Berlin. It had been mixed in with the scent of a Beta. When that sweet scent first reached his nose then, he’d thought it had belonged to Gaby but when his nose finally separated the scents and focused on them, he was taken aback by who it really belonged to.

Omegas are often all soft curves and delicate features but Napoleon is muscular and has a strong, square jaw. The looks and the smell had made Illya hesitate for a moment though it’s not something he’d admit to now.

After the initial shock, he’d sprung into action the way he was trained to do. It didn’t matter what caste the American was from, his mission was to get the girl and if he had to kill the Omega to do it, he would.

It hadn’t worked out in his favor in the end. Omegas are far from stupid and useless but Illya was outraged that an Omega was able to outwit and dodge him at every turn and managed to get the little Beta over the wall. It wounded his Alpha pride enough that he didn’t think twice about attacking Napoleon the next time he laid eyes on him.

When Illya had well and truly calmed down hours after the bathroom incident, he felt disgusting for attacking Napoleon the way he did in the situation they had found themselves in then. Made him feel like those no good Alphas whose thinking was so far back in the Stone Age that they thought Omegas owed them their bodies, like they were any Alphas property. Omegas hadn’t been thought of as such since the Middle Ages and total equality for all three castes was just over the horizon. It was actually disturbing that anyone had that thinking anymore.

Even so, even with the disgust he felt at himself because he wasn’t one of those Alphas, Illya did not give any sort of apology and Napoleon hadn’t seemed to be waiting for one.

Napoleon Solo is an Omega. Illya knows this because the man does nothing to hide his caste. He doesn’t use suppressants or perfumes to cover up. He absolutely flaunts his Omega status. Napoleon knows the kind of power he holds as an Omega, especially when his scent is free and strong from never having touched any of those artificial hormones or scent maskers. It’s so simple for him to seduce by exploiting his caste.

An anger sparks inside of Illya every time he sees an Alpha or Beta leaving Napoleon’s hotel room. There’s no reason for him to feel such a way, it’s Napoleon’s body and he can do whatever he wants with it. He can sleep with whomever he wishes and with however many people he wishes to as well. But Illya knows, he knows that all those Alphas and Betas aren’t interested in the American as anything more than a warm body. It drives him crazy.

Most would call it jealousy, but Illya refuses to call it such. He prefers to call it a mild concern for the well-being of a fellow colleague who he relies on in the field. Should anything happen to him, it would affect Illya as well. That’s all there is to it.

But Illya Kuryakin is _not_ jealous.

* * *

 

**_Paris  
1964_ **

Napoleon’s suits are all finely tailored, complimenting his form and hugging him in all the right places. Not that Illya paid much attention, he would never do such a thing. It was simply that sometimes he noticed. It was difficult not to, really, especially when one worked with someone for a year now.

The Omega is turned away from him, slipping on a pair of cuff links. They’re square and gold, not that cheap gold either, Napoleon would never. He cares much for his clothes and how he presents himself which is rarely anything other than impeccable. It is appreciated by many.

For Napoleon’s half of the mission, he is to seduce a duke. The man is said to be a bit on the severe side so Napoleon is to not act so eager but he absolutely must get him to bring Napoleon to his room at some point. Napoleon using his looks and caste to gain information yet again. Illya feels it is disrespectful to Napoleon to constantly shove him into these situations but the Omega doesn’t seem to mind.

“Are you sure about this, Cowboy? Always other ways to get information.” Napoleon gives him an amused look over his shoulder.

“Nervous, Peril?”

“Duke is not known to be kind. Could hurt you.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“I care about mission. If you are hurt, could ruin it.” Napoleon hums as he finishes up the cuff links.

“Worry not, I can take care of myself. I’ll be out of his room the second he’s asleep, thoroughly satisfied, I’m sure, and with the information in hand.”

Something inside Illya growls at that, at the thought of the duke touching Napoleon but he quashes that part of him down.

“If you say so, Cowboy.”

“If anything should happen, I’m confident you’ll come to my rescue again.”

And that makes Illya think of Rudi and how the man got off too easily for torturing Napoleon and being all too willing to sell out Gaby. Illya is still bitter about not being able to make the man pay more for that.

“You should get back to your room, you still have to get ready for the party,” Napoleon says as he slips on his suit jacket, completing the outfit. Illya only makes a soft grunting noise before turning and leaving the room to get ready.

He has the feeling that this is going to be a rather long evening.

* * *

The party is one of those regal affairs, something that rivals the one that Victoria Vinciguerra held exactly one year ago. An invitation was, of course, required as was a suit or dress that cost no less than two hundred dollars. You had to look the part if you were going to mingle with members of high society.

Illya and Gaby are off in one corner, making friendly conversation with a Beta couple. Gaby is doing most of the talking, being better at it than Illya. She’s more at ease in this sort of environment than Illya is so it’s better she do the brunt of the talking.

Napoleon is across the room, several Alphas practically drooling all over him. Illya takes in a deep breath to calm himself. They’re starting to get a bit too handsy for his liking. He can feel his hand start to tighten around his glass of brandy.

The expensive glass is beginning to crack under his fingers. Illya doesn’t register it or even hear the telltale signs that it is going to break in his grip. His focus is completely on Napoleon and all those Alphas.

“Calm down,” Gaby whispers and it’s enough to break Illya out of his own thoughts. The couple they were having a conversation with are gone and it’s just Gaby and Illya in their own little corner now. She’s looking up at him with mild concern until she follows his line of sight.

“You’re jealous,” she points out.

“I am not jealous,” Illya scoffs. Gaby raises her eyebrows at him, her look clearly saying ‘ _really_?’

“Is that why the glass has a large crack in it?”

“It means nothing.” Gaby only gives a nod and a hum before she walks away. Illya drains his glass before moving closer to Napoleon and Gaby. The American has moved on from all those fawning Alphas to the duke. There’s a crowd around them because of course there would be. An attractive Omega flirting with a duke is definitely something to see.

Gaby and Illya gravitate closer, becoming part of the crowd itself to keep a close watch on Napoleon who’s  speaking with the duke. The Alpha is looking at Napoleon but is barely there. Even so, Napoleon’s signature smile does not falter.

“You have a wonderful eye for detail,” Napoleon compliments. Easiest way to get to somebody is by stroking their ego and the Omega is quite skilled in that area. “This party makes the ones held at the White House look dull in comparison.”

It’s only then that the duke opens his mouth. He’d been eyeing Napoleon up and down for a solid two minutes and everyone thinks they know what he’s going to say but as it turns out, nobody had any idea.

“You’re a rather tall bitch, aren’t you?” Illya wants to hit the man but holds himself back and instead focuses on Napoleon’s face. He thinks he sees something in Napoleon’s eyes but it’s there and gone so quickly he’s not sure if he had been imagining it.

The other party goers have fallen deathly silent. Someone clears their throat somewhere in the crowd and Napoleon straightens up, smile still on his face almost like he’s used to hearing such things from others and Illya would not be surprised.

Napoleon, as far as Omegas go, is quite tall for his caste. Rarely will there be an Omega six feet or taller. Some Alphas don’t like it, preferring shorter Omegas. Softer Omegas and Napoleon doesn’t fit into that typical category. Illya thinks that for the first time, this will be one Alpha that Napoleon can’t seduce.

“It was nice to meet you,” the Omega says before walking off. It takes only moments for everyone to go back to what they were doing previously, all those interested Alphas going back to surrounding Napoleon, thinking they have a chance with him now that the duke has rebuffed him.

Napoleon decides to play along, indulging them but clearly (to Gaby and Illya at least) having no intention of taking any of them back to his hotel room for the night.

And he mingles and flirts and as it gets dark out, Illya notices the duke making his way over towards Napoleon. The man was not able to obtain any company for the night so he figures he might as well go to the Omega that showed interest in him.

“Come back to my room with me?”

“My apologies but I don’t make it a habit of spending the night with someone who has referred to me as a ‘bitch.’” A feeling of pride fills Illya at those words. Napoleon does have to get himself into that room but he can’t play easy to get either. It might raise some red flags. For now he will say no but later if he gets the chance again, Illya knows, he will say yes.

Napoleon’s eyes sweep over the other guests until he settles on Illya. He walks up to him and Illya is confused until the Omega speaks.

“Escort me to my room?” Illya can only stare at him with a dumbfounded look on his face before nodding and placing his glass down on the nearest surface before walking off with Napoleon, arms linked. Gaby will stay behind a little while longer before excusing herself as well.

“He was rude.”

“Does it surprise you? You said yourself, you heard that the duke can be a severe man.”

“He still should not have talked to you like that.”

“I’ve been called far worse things than a ‘bitch.’”

“That does not matter, is still rude.” Napoleon simply shrugs as if the whole thing doesn’t bother him.

The rest of the walk back to Napoleon’s room is spent in silence and while Illya should go back to his own when they reach the door, he stays until Napoleon has it open and it’s then that he’s taking off down the hallway.

“Goodnight, Peril.”

“Goodnight, Cowboy.”

* * *

When the next morning rolls around, Illya finds the duke in front of Napoleon’s hotel room, knocking and waiting patiently until Napoleon opens the door. The duke presents the American with a jewelry box, something of black silk with a golden lining to it.

The duke is interested in Napoleon now. Used to getting what he wants, his interest is piqued because Napoleon denied him company and now he’s going to lavish the Omega in expensive gifts to win him over. It’s a typical courting technique but in this case, Illya knows, it’s merely to win Napoleon for a night. Illya knows that Napoleon will let it happen because it’s part of the mission and they need that information.

His expression does not change as he retreats from the hallway Napoleon’s room is on to return to his own. He decides to distract himself with chess most of the rest of the day while Napoleon is out being pampered and spoiled by a very rich duke.

Illya would never be able to do that for him. He’s fully aware that Napoleon can provide for himself and U.N.C.L.E. pays them all well but he’d never be able to give Napoleon extremely expensive gifts or give him the kind of wealthy lifestyle that the Omega seems to fit so easily into. A lifestyle he seems perfectly content and happy in. Illya would never be able to do that for him like someone of a higher standing might.

He loses three chess games against himself as how inadequate of an Alpha he’d be to Napoleon runs through his head. It frustrates him enough that he goes to sleep even before the Sun goes down.

* * *

Gaby is giving him a look the next morning that he tries to ignore but her gaze is so piercing that he can almost feel it drilling a hole into the back of his skull. Her gaze can be ever so intense like that. It’s difficult to ignore it and even more difficult not to ask.

“What?” he questions, looking over at her.

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Napoleon,” Gaby sighs in a way that sounds like she can’t believe she even has to be telling him this. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Illya.”

“Solo likes nice things. Would not be interested in Alpha like me.”

“So you’re not subtle _and_  you’re blind.”

“What are you saying?”

“Tell him,” she says firmly. “You might be surprised.”

“No.”

“ _Illya_.”

“…I will think about it.”

“Don’t think about it too long.” Finally she turns her attention to reading the paper and away from Illya and he can’t help but wonder what she knows that he doesn’t because Napoleon can’t like him in the way of _wanting_ Illya. He simply can’t.

* * *

They’re in the restaurant in the hotel when Napoleon comes back. The restaurant doors are vast and made mostly of glass with a light gold design near the four corners. It’s an attractive look and it makes it so it’s easy to glance out and see the entrance of the hotel.

Napoleon’s arm is looped with the duke’s and he looks pleased as several porters bring in all manner of jewelry boxes and bags that no doubt contain expensive gifts ranging from knick-knacks to clothing.

Illya believes it’s safe to say the duke has done enough apologizing for his comment to be forgiven. Perhaps not truly forgiven in Napoleon’s eyes but forgiven enough for the act Napoleon is doing. That is proven when the duke kisses Napoleon and the Omega allows it, even returns it.

The fork in Illya’s hand is bent in half at the sight and his eyes don’t leave Napoleon until the duke is gone and Napoleon is heading up the grand staircase to return to his hotel room.

He attempts to straighten the fork back out before he and Gaby leave the restaurant. It’s not that he really has to do it, utensils are broken everyday but bending it back allows him to get even a minuscule amount of his aggression out.

From the restaurant, they head straight to Napoleon’s room where a room service trolley is parked just far enough away from the door so it’s not hit upon opening it. Along with the trolley, Napoleon’s room is covered in the bags and jewelry boxes that were brought in after him and the duke.

They can hear the shower running in the bathroom and while they wait, Illya stands off to the side, leaning against one of the chairs while Gaby does a little snooping in the bags. The shower stops when she opens one of the bigger jewelry boxes. This one is of a blue color with a white trim and an Italian name engraved in gold on the top. Illya does not fully catch the name.

“Remember when I said that outfit was worth more than my car?” she asks Illya.

“Yes.”

“This,” she says, showing off a rather impressive jewelry set. “Is worth about three of my car.”

“Yes, the duke went a little overboard with his pampering,” Napoleon says and he’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom in his blue dressing gown and seemingly nothing else. A towel is thrown over his head as well, his hair dripping lightly, the water bringing out his natural curls.

Illya tries not to focus his attention on the part of Napoleon’s chest that is left exposed and instead decides to focus on something far more innocent, a stray piece of Napoleon’s hair that’s off to one side away from the others. It’s less compromising to pay attention to.

“I’m sure you didn’t try to do anything about it.”

“He looked so happy buying all that for me I just didn’t have the heart to stop him.”

Gaby rolls her eyes as she closes the box and returns it to the tower of other boxes of varying colors it had been on.

“So what is going on with the duke?”

“I’ll be spending the night with him tomorrow.” Illya’s grip on the arm of the chair he’s leaning on tightens. “As I told the Red Peril here the other day, once the duke is out, I’ll leave with the information to those bombs in hand that night.”

“We could find other way.”

“Peril?”

“If you change your mind. We could find other way to get information.”

“I knew you were worried about me. I already told you not to worry, I’ve done this before with worse people. I’ll be fine,” Napoleon says. “Have the both of you eaten yet? If not, you’re perfectly welcome to join me.”

“I am going to bed.” With that, Illya leaves the room, practically slamming the door behind him. Napoleon looks at Gaby with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s his problem now?”

“He’s going to have to tell you that himself. I should go too, I have to report to Waverly.” Napoleon nods as she leaves and he swears he hears her mumble an indignant ‘ _men_ ’ under her breath before she closes the door.

* * *

The second that Illya knows Napoleon is out of the hotel and with the duke, the Alpha can’t help but pace his hotel room like a caged animal. Anything can happen. He knows the type of Alpha the duke is and he shouldn’t be allowed to even touch Omegas.

Shouldn’t be touching Napoleon and it drives Illya to nearly destroying the hotel room to think about the duke’s hands all over the Omega and Napoleon coming back to the hotel smelling like another Alpha. Like _that_ Alpha.

He’s had to endure Napoleon smelling like all different types of Alphas and Betas since the Vinciguerra affair. At first it was fine, he didn’t mind and then something changed after a mission in Brussels and ever since, Illya can’t stand it.

The day and much of the night is spent pacing and playing one man chess and trying to focus on anything other than the duke and Napoleon.

It works for the most part until Illya goes into Gaby’s room for some company and not half an hour later Napoleon comes waltzing through the door, looking impeccable as ever with a file in his hand and smelling like the duke.

The file in Napoleon’s hand is easily handed over to Gaby. Being a Beta, she isn’t smelling the same thing Illya is and he has to suffer alone in that.

“Best to give that information to Waverly as soon as possible.” Gaby is out of her chair to do just that before the sentence fully leaves Napoleon’s mouth. Illya can hear her on the phone with Waverly in the next room until he can’t take the smell of the duke anymore.

For the second time in as many days, Illya suddenly excuses himself and retreats out the door. He couldn’t stand to be in that room anymore, smelling another Alpha on Napoleon. Thankfully after Waverly has what he needs, the mission will be over and they’ll all go home and for awhile he won’t have to be in such close quarters with Napoleon.

They can’t leave Paris quick enough.

* * *

There’s an odd lull the next morning. It’s all so calm and that would be comforting to anyone but to Illya it doesn’t feel right. He has some terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that he can’t explain and it annoys him.

Waverly has informed Gaby that they will be returning the day after tomorrow. It gives them all some down time to enjoy the sights.

Illya thinks he might go along with Napoleon and Gaby later to pay a visit to Versailles. He will simply have to endure the smell of the duke. He can do that. He was simply not prepared the night before but he is now and he can power through it.

The Alpha is really warming to the idea of the little trip when that feeling in his stomach gets a good reason to be there.

“That little bitch!” He hears and Illya turns just quick enough to see the duke running up the stairs as fast as he can with a look so full of anger that somebody would have to be a complete idiot to try and stand between him and the poor bastard that the anger is aimed towards.

But it isn’t just some poor bastard, it’s Napoleon and Illya moves quickly himself to run up the stairs after the duke.

By the time Illya does reach Napoleon’s hotel room, the door is slightly ajar and Illya can see Napoleon on the floor with the duke looming over him. Napoleon is in no position to try and defend himself. Any movement he makes will be caught by the duke and the Alpha will be able to catch him before he can do much and quite possibly will start breaking bones. Illya can also see that Napoleon has a gash across his forehead and a thin trail of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth. Red starts to seep into Illya’s vision at the sight.

“Where is it!? Did you give it to somebody!?” Napoleon says nothing, just gives the duke a hard look as if challenging him. “I know you took it! If you don’t tell me where it is, I will start breaking things. And I will start with your fingers.”

The duke stares at Napoleon in confusion when Napoleon suddenly covers his face with his arms and turns to his side as if to shield himself. He hasn’t raised either of his hands to strike Napoleon again.

It’s barely a second after Napoleon has moved that a glass table is broken over the Alpha, knocking the duke to the side. He looks up in alarm to see Illya standing there, still holding the table frame in his hands.

Illya tosses it to the side when the duke gets up. He is ready to kill the man and will if he has to to protect Napoleon. He has no qualms about doing so. In a way, it would be a pleasure to.

Napoleon scoots away from the both of them, putting himself into a safer position. He knows better than to get in the middle of two Alphas standing off against each other.

Illya hasn’t made a move, is standing his ground and instead let’s the duke come to him. When the duke charges him, Illya uses the other Alpha’s momentum against him, quickly stepping to the side and grabbing his arm to swing him around and throw him into the coffee table.

The duke has no time to get up before Illya is on him. He delivers a punch square to the duke’s nose. There is a satisfying crack that comes with it and blood gushes from the smaller Alpha’s nose like a fountain.

A punch aimed for Illya’s jaw is caught and Illya dislocates the arm. It’s letting the duke off easily because Illya would like nothing more than to break both arms. Instead he opts for delivering two more punches to the man’s face, putting as much strength he can behind it without doing serious damage to the other’s skull.

When he’s satisfied the duke is out cold, he drops the upper half of the man’s body onto the ruined table as the red mist recedes and Illya is moving over towards Napoleon before he even fully realizes it.

“Are you alright?” he asks, crouching in front of the Omega. Napoleon isn’t seriously hurt, the gash on his forehead looks worse than it is and there doesn’t seem to be any real damage to his mouth despite the small trail of blood.

“Fine, Peril,” Napoleon replies as he finally wipes the blood away from his mouth. “However, I can’t say the same for the tables.”

“Tables are replaceable,” Illya says. “Come, you are staying in my room until this one is cleaned and duke is gone.”

Napoleon for once in what Illya suspects is his life, doesn’t make some smart ass comment about being invited to somebody else’s room and simply follows without protest after Illya helps him up off the floor.

The Omega could have always denied and Illya would not be able to do anything about it but he isn’t and Illya is thankful that Napoleon is coming with him.

* * *

Illya’s room is one floor below Napoleon’s and while it is still a beautiful room of white and gold and blue, it is smaller than the one the Omega is staying in but it’s still more than spacious enough for the both of them especially when neither is actually moving about the space.

Instead, Napoleon is sitting atop Illya’s bed as Illya cleans the wound on his forehead. It’s already stopped bleeding and the good news is he won’t need stitches.

Even after Illya is done and Napoleon has thanked him, Napoleon doesn’t move from the bed and Illya lets him remain there. Illya handles the police business himself and makes sure he sees the duke being carted away in handcuffs personally before retreating back to his room.

“Duke is in custody. Will not have to worry about him anymore,” Illya says as he makes his way to the bedroom only to find Napoleon sleeping. 

The Alpha steps forward only to bring the comforter up around Napoleon’s shoulders and gaze fondly at the sleeping Omega for as long as he allows himself to do so before going to sit on the couch and silently play chess.

Napoleon is safe here and that puts Illya and his Alpha instincts at ease.

* * *

They’re going home tomorrow morning and that means packing. Illya and Gaby don’t have much to put away, Gaby packs slowly over the course of time they’re there so there’s not much to do before they leave and Illya only takes things out as needed. Napoleon, on the other hand, likes to make himself at home wherever they stay and tends not to put things away until absolutely necessary.

It’s what Illya finds him doing when he goes into Napoleon’s room that day. The Omega is packing his things, his back turned to Illya and for a moment, the Alpha stops and just admires Napoleon’s form. The strong, square shoulders, powerful back, a waist that all those suits and vests and nice shirts of his love to hug to and further accentuate. And his mind keeps going and Illya feels like something of a voyeur, just standing there and watching Napoleon and the way his body moves.

“Something I can help you with, Peril?” It’s Napoleon’s voice that startles him out of his thoughts and his eyes flash up to meet Napoleon’s own. The Omega is giving him that amused smile of his.

“I…wanted to see how you were holding up.” Illya tries to make it sound completely casual, like he couldn’t care one way or another but he thinks the hesitation in his voice ruins what he was trying to accomplish.

“No reason to be concerned, I’m just fine.” He turns away again and Illya doesn’t move. He doesn’t make his way to the door like he should, he doesn’t leave the hotel room to return to his own and wait until tomorrow. He should but he doesn’t and he’s not sure what to say and that irritates him.

Napoleon knows that Illya is still there, the man wouldn’t leave the room without making noise. He’s something of a bull in a china shop unless it’s absolutely necessary to be as quiet as possible and then the hulking Russian can be as quiet as a mouse.

He’s about to do something a little cruel, if he’s being honest, but he can’t help it. The Alpha keeps dancing around things and Napoleon isn’t really the type to beat around the bush.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

“I…no. I will leave.”

“One moment,” Napoleon says before Illya can take a single step towards the door. He’s turned around again so he can face Illya and look him in the eyes. “Tell me something, Peril, I’m curious.”

“About?”

“Do you have feelings for me?” Illya’s form immediately goes rigged and he gives Napoleon a look of complete and utter disbelief. Had he really been so transparent around the Omega?

“How…?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“You are talking nonsense, Cowboy.”

“ _Illya_.” The tone Napoleon is using and the way the name rolls off his tongue is enough to make the Alpha freeze and forget all about retreating.

Instead, Illya stays still and swallows around a lump in his throat. It feels like a golf ball has been lodged in it.

“You have refined tastes, you do not want me as your Alpha.”

“It’s the sixties, Peril, not the Dark Ages, I think I can decide who I want as my Alpha or not.”

Illya doesn’t want to hear this, it implies something deeper and it could all be a joke because the American so does love to pull his leg. It’s so much easier for him not to think that Napoleon is telling him he wants him as a mate so the second the Omega laughs in his face won’t sting as much.

He’s so lost in his head that it takes feeling lips on his own to snap him out of it and it takes a second for him to realize Napoleon is the one kissing him. Of course it is, who else could it be? He feels stupid for even wondering who it was in the first place.

“What are you doing?” He questions once Napoleon has stepped back. Not far, he’s still practically on top of Illya but enough to give Illya some room to breathe.

“I think that should be obvious.”

“Why? Why me?”

“I think that should be obvious as well. I like you, Peril, and despite what you might believe, I think you’d be a fine mate.”

“Are you really saying that-”

“I want you to be my Alpha? Yes.”

“Cowboy-”

“Illya.”

“Stop interrupting me.” Napoleon puts his hands up in surrender, the hard look on Illya’s face remains for a few moments more before his features smooth out again. “Are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about this, would I be bringing it up?”

_No_ , Illya thinks. No he wouldn’t because Napoleon is a free spirit so for him to be willing to bond with an Alpha, he has to be absolutely certain because this means he’s promising himself to someone else. It means he won’t go around flirting and sleeping with anybody he pleases. Bonding with another means signing over part of your freedom for both parties.

It’s that thought that Napoleon is so willing to give that up that makes something inside of Illya snap. The next thing he knows, he’s kissing Napoleon furiously and lifting him up so Napoleon can wrap his legs around Illya’s waist, allowing the Alpha to walk them towards the bed.

They collapse onto it, Illya not breaking the contact he has with Napoleon. He attempts to rid himself of his clothes while keeping that contact but when he gets down to his turtleneck, he has no choice. Napoleon knows it too and chuckles into the Russian’s mouth before severing their kiss so Illya can rid himself of the garment.

Napoleon’s hair is tousled and out of place and it’s beginning to give way to the Omega’s natural curls that Illya is secretly incredibly fond of. It’s a shame that Napoleon hides them but Illya will not be the type of Alpha who dictates how his Omega should look. He will be content and savor the moments he does get to see them which, he notes with a certain delight, will be much more often after they become mates.

When Illya gets to his trousers, he gets up from the bed. It’s easier to take them off when he’s standing rather than looming over Napoleon and it gives the Omega a chance to undress as well.

It’s only when they’re both totally free of their clothes that Illya begins to feel unsure again and Napoleon can see it on him as clear as day and only smiles as he grabs hold of one of the Alpha’s wrists and brings him back over to him.

“Are you really sure?” Illya asks with a slight frown.

“I thought I made myself clear before,” Napoleon teases but Illya’s expression doesn’t change so he sighs and answers more seriously. “Yes, Illya, I’m sure.”

Illya nods and leans down to kiss Napoleon again and lay him down on the bed, taking up his previous position once more of hovering over the Omega. And he knows it’s so typical, it’s been written about thousands of times in romance novels but he can’t help but to do it still, to just break their contact for a moment to admire Napoleon. This Omega is giving himself to Illya of all people and Illya can’t help but feel sappy over it because he never thought somebody as beautiful with such refined tastes as Napoleon could ever want him as their mate.

He’s a giant, for one, and prone to violent outbursts. He intimidates people with not just his size but his expressions which are not in the least bit inviting. Nobody has ever shown any sort of romantic or sexual interest towards him before because of it. It feels unreal now.

And then Illya is brought back to the present by Napoleon kissing him along his jaw and down his throat and Illya suspects that Napoleon knew he was lost in thought again and did this deliberately to get Illya out of his own mind.

“Do you have…in your drawer?” Illya isn’t sure why he can’t say the word. He’s not a prude but somehow it feels like saying it will ruin the moment. Napoleon chuckles and fishes out exactly what Illya was indicating. It’s a small bottle of lube, enough for a few uses. Illya notices that it has yet to be used once and it makes him wonder for all of a moment if the Omega had gotten it specially for this. Like he knew it would happen and maybe he always had.

Illya is about to coat his own fingers with it when Napoleon gently stops him from doing so.

“That won’t be necessary.” And those words remind Illya that Napoleon slept with the duke not long ago. He doesn’t want to think about it, shouldn’t think about it because it meant nothing and this, what they’re about to do, what they’re _doing_ , does mean something.

It’s enough to help Illya push that thought into the back of his mind and focus on Napoleon again. So he doesn’t coat his fingers but rather his cock and Napoleon doesn’t wait for him to ask if he’s ready, just gives Illya a small nod. It’s all Illya needs to slowly push into Napoleon and he stops when he believes he’s deep enough inside the Omega to not make this uncomfortable for him.

The last thing he wants is for this to be a bad experience for his soon to be mate. And so, Illya remains still, waiting for further confirmation from Napoleon and he gets it through another nod and a smile. The smile Napoleon gives him then is so much different from the other smiles he’s seen on the Omega’s face. It’s real and genuine and there’s no ulterior motive behind it.

Illya can’t help but crush his mouth against Napoleon’s again at the sight of that smile.

Napoleon releases a tiny moan into Illya’s mouth as the Alpha begins moving. Slowly at first, slow enough where it feels much more like love making than just fucking and that’s how Illya wants it because it isn’t just mindless sex in this case and he isn’t about to treat it as such. He’s not like those Alphas that treat mating like some kind of typical romp in the sheets with a stranger.

While Illya’s arms are braced on either side of Napoleon’s head, keeping him steady above the Omega, Napoleon’s arms move from being draped over Illya’s shoulders. One of his hands come up to rest on the back of the Alpha’s neck and the other comes around and up to lay between Illya’s shoulder blades.

The nails on that hand bite harshly into the Alpha’s skin after a particularly hard thrust but if the sound Napoleon let out at it is anything to go by, it wasn’t a painful one.

Illya is in love with the sounds that the Omega is making. More in love with the fact that Napoleon isn’t trying to hide them and it should mortify Illya because Napoleon isn’t exactly quiet but the possessive part of his caste is pleased that Napoleon is being loud. Illya is somewhat lost to feeling any sort of shame at the moment.

Instead, he’s focused on pleasuring his Omega. Of rocking in and out of the smaller man’s body at a steady pace with the occasional sharp snap of his hips that makes such delicious sounds escape Napoleon’s lips and makes the smaller man wrack his nails down Illya’s back.

It isn’t very long before Illya picks up the pace, thrusting harder into the Omega with less time in between each thrust.

Napoleon is a mess; his hair has completely given way to his natural curls and a few of them are plastered to his forehead while his pupils are completely blown up. There’s a deep blush adorning his face and neck and chest and Illya thinks he’s gorgeous.

He knows he won’t last much longer. It’s a miracle he’s even lasted this long but Illya refuses to let himself go just yet. He wants to do this right, with Napoleon.

He snaps his hips forward, making Napoleon moan louder than usual and Illya takes that as an indicator that Napoleon is right there with him too.

“Кончай со мной.” Those words are enough to tip Napoleon over the edge and with him, Illya.

They’re a gasping and shuddering mess as Illya’s knot swells. It’s enough to make them casual mates, not a bonded pair but when Illya’s breathing comes under control even a little bit, he moves his mouth to the juncture between Napoleon’s neck and shoulder and bites down hard to leave a bond mark there.

It’s in a place where it can be covered entirely by clothes but also where it can be seen, even partially, if Napoleon dresses a bit liberally one day.

A contented sigh comes from the Omega underneath him once the mark is made. Illya looks up and meets Napoleon’s gaze and smiles at him.

“Я люблю тебя.”

“Я тоже тебя люблю.”

* * *

Waverly was not a stupid man. Despite being a Beta and not being able to pick up on scents like an Alpha or Omega could, he still knew the second he laid eyes on Napoleon and Illya that something about two of his best agents was different.

After Napoleon and Illya were debriefed on their Paris mission, he asked to speak with them. There was no reason for this interaction to be awkward and he needed answers.

“We bonded in Paris.” Napoleon says it as bluntly as that. Illya looks at him in bewilderment even though he should have expected nothing less from his mate. He would have liked to put it differently but there it is and Waverly is giving him a look that clearly says he’s waiting for Illya to confirm or deny it because Napoleon has a habit of pulling people’s legs so witnesses are generally needed.

“Is true.”

“Well…congratulations. Will this affect your work?”

“Not at all,” Napoleon says.

“Very good then, gentlemen, enjoy the time off you have until your next mission and if you move, remember to inform me of your new address.”

“That is it?” Illya asks, mildly confused.

“That’s it, Kuryakin. You can leave now.”

Illya doesn’t move though, not until Napoleon grabs him by the arm and begins to tug him towards the door. He expected Waverly to be more shocked but he supposes he can’t complain as he and Napoleon leave the Beta’s office.

Waverly, meanwhile, as he watches them go, can only think how it was about damn time because the two of them couldn’t be any more obvious about each other and after a half dozen missions together in all different countries it finally happened on this one.

He shouldn’t be surprised it happened on this one though. Paris _is_ the city of love.

**Author's Note:**

> This is finally done after MONTHS of writing it. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry I'm bad at writing smut.  
> This is the first in a series. ;D
> 
> You can also find me on my [blog.](http://artemiisiia.tumblr.com)
> 
> I do prompts.


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